


Watermelon

by amuk



Series: Battlefield [2]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Army, F/M, Loneliness, Long-Distance Relationship, Romance, Separations, War Era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-28
Updated: 2013-01-28
Packaged: 2017-11-27 06:08:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/658780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amuk/pseuds/amuk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She's using watermelon lotion now, he notices, her fingerprints heavy with the scent.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Watermelon

**Author's Note:**

> Day/Theme: Day 23 // Birthday

It is hard to contact Sakura. They video chat, occasionally, her face appearing in pixelated blocks and hazy lines. The reception is bad where he is, the phone line barely there. The weather outside, a raging monsoon, didn't help either.

 

 _That's fine_ , she told him in letters, _I like writing better._ Liked leaving traces of her perfume on wrinkled pages, pressing flowers and herbal leafs between the sheets so they fell on his lap when he opened the envelope. Sometimes she would doodle in the margins, leave lipstick kisses on the seal. Occasionally, a used movie stub or a glass marble would sit in the envelope, weighing it down as he picked it up.

 

Two weeks late for his birthday, he receives a package, covered in x's and o's. He can smell the lotion from her hands on the box, her skin dry again from the heat of summer. She's using the watermelon-scented one again and he can see smudges from where she used too much. Her fingerprints are outlined clearly in some spots, his own hands hovering over them as he opened the package.

 

Inside are a few books, ones he has never heard the title of before, two notes, and a dog-tag with his clan's symbol engraved in the metal. Even as he takes out the books, lilies and irises and daises scatter in the air, their petals breaking apart at the force. He is sure some have landed in his hair, the colours a striking contrast with his black locks.

 

The first note he skims ( _Happy birthday!_ ), the second makes him pause. He knows already the small splotches are tears, the mangled ink a _I miss you_.

 

Knows and can do nothing but take in the faint scent of watermelon, feel the flower petals still falling around him.


End file.
